


caught up in the touch, the slow and steady rush

by r1ker



Category: Midnight Special (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i cry and my tears spell out 'please go see midnight special for the ones that don't have it in their theaters yet'</p><p>also</p><p>http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/faithhill/breathe.html</p></blockquote>





	caught up in the touch, the slow and steady rush

The first morning they wake up together not in a hotel bed, it's not terrifying.

 

Lucas is warm from his head to his toes; he lies buried beneath a comforter they might have strung together from a Dirt Cheap in the town they've found themselves in. On top of him, threatening to steal away that heat is Roy, one hand to the slope of Lucas's shoulder to keep his cheek to the man's chest. There he breathes quietly, solid and comforting for there aren't any shirts keeping their contact limited.

 

The night before they'd spent it about as close. Lucas had found out firsthand what Roy sounded like chasing a climax, knew he wanted that sound for as long as he could get it for. So after, he didn't get up and move to where he'd been sleeping on the couch in the living room. He had moved up on the bed, beckoned Roy closer with hands on his wrist and lips pressed to his temple, and there they lie until now. He had gone almost mad with the way Roy's thumb had passed over his collarbone at the gesture, wanting again to come together with him in the way they had begun the night.

 

For now one lies awake while the other sleeps. Lucas is fine with that – he's got nowhere particular to be on this Sunday morning, and he's quite certain Alton is still asleep – so he stays there. Roy turns a little in his sleep as the minutes tick by, once to where he's got his back to Lucas and another where his head is tucked under Lucas's chin. Lucas holds onto him, can't help it if he even tried. This feels good, it's right the way Roy fits into the cradle of his arms, and most importantly, they don't have to get up and run anymore.

 

A sigh and it's clear now that Roy's fully awake, no longer drifting between consciousness and dreaming. He presses his nose to the skin at Lucas's throat, exhales slowly through his nose. The goosebumps that rise on Lucas's arms are no doubt a direct consequence of that action, and he shivers as Roy's breath there turns into a kiss.

 

"When you'd sleep over at my house," Lucas mumbles past a cheek pressed to the top of Roy's head. "I'd wake up early just to watch you sleep. There might not have been a drop's worth of sun in the room but somehow I'd see you clear as day."

 

"Yeah, the drool on my pillow and the line in my cheek from my retainer," Roy says quietly, not quite awake but enough so to comprehend Lucas's words. They found each other sleeping over at the other's house a lot; both sets of parents raised no objections to it, they never stayed up past midnight, and when they were in each other's rooms they were so quiet the parents often forgot the other was over.

 

"And the way your hair stood up in the back because you never let it dry all the way before you fell asleep," Lucas snickers, remembering all too well Roy's griping about the thing that kept his teeth straight after four solid years (did a president come and go between countless orthodontic appointments? Roy figures, judging time as a sixteen-year-old was hard enough with the age factor).

 

Now Lucas runs his fingers through that hair that once made Roy half-peacock, silently reveling in the way Roy tilts his head into his touch. "And that time you talked to me. Going on at the mouth about something about a bicycle. Funny thing is neither of us had a bicycle, nor do I think any kid we went to school with either. Both of us living in this broke-down neighborhood with no bicycles, and with every passing second you just got more heated. I didn't know whether to wake you up or laugh at you. 'Don't take my bicycle!'"

 

Lucas's wheezy laughter is only slightly dampened by a light punch of Roy's fist to his shoulder. Roy pulls back from him then and Lucas starts to think he's struck a nerve until Roy looks him dead in the eye, no emotion on his face. The kiss that follows is light as a feather but heavy enough to knock the breath out of Lucas with a swift punch to the gut. One kiss turns to two then a third, each softer than its predecessor.

 

"I love you," Roy says like he's walked outside to picturesque weather, eyes crinkling at the corners like they're in the presence of a brilliant sun. Lucas figures the comparison is so much more appropriate considering how they got started together.

 

Roy had latched onto him that day in third grade, when a class switch had been inevitable for the both of them and in the sea of unfamiliar faces they'd found one another. Years past and it was no longer a tag team at recess, it was lab partners, third chair saxophone to first chair clarinet, we-both-don't-have-prom-dates-wouldn't-it-be-a-gas-if-we-went-together, and now they lie in this bed earned from running away together.

 

"I know," Lucas responds with fingers curling around the shell of Roy's ear, and immediately after the last syllable has left his mouth he squints his eyes shut. "That reference was inevitable." Roy laughs, a noise that causes something to fall down the rungs of Roy's ribs, and kisses him on the cheek with all the precision someone awake at six in the morning has. "You're in no way Leia but I mean in a way you kinda are, I just… shutting up now." Roy laughs again and with that he moves back to take Lucas into the crook of his arm fully.

 

"But would you shoot first," Roy comments. In an instant Lucas spots the never-ending pillow talk that's carrying over from those sleepover days. Those nights Lucas got an earful of who Roy really was, as if he didn't know everything already – only child, allergic to peanuts, swallowed two of his baby teeth in a panic, accidentally took one of those coffee mugs from Waffle House and was too scared to return it.

 

Some of it got repeated inevitably but Lucas didn't mind; it could be the most mundane things to come from Roy's mouth but to him they were gospel. And all the more apropos that it's Sunday morning in this little town. So he starts to wake up, rolling his shoulders as best as he can still in Roy's arms, and listens as he compares him to Han Solo.

 

"You both have a good head of hair. And for the most part you can shoot well. But vests… you don't look good in vests I'm afraid," Roy elaborates and to tease him Lucas gives a comical frown at learning vests weren't the best for him. "It's the truth, stunts your figure. The only reason they had Harrison Ford in one is because George Lucas was a lunatic. If I had not been five years old I'd have asked to have a hand in wardrobe design. Maybe have him in that same jumpsuit getup or something Luke was in in _Return of the Jedi_." Lucas huffs a breathy laugh, knew from early on Roy saw much more interest in them then he did in Princess Leia, and doesn't want to take back the comparison he made that sparked this whole conversation. This is his Leia, he supposes – just as smart and charming as she was even with the white robe and bun hairdo, but all the more fiery when needing to speak up. Lucas lets Roy go on about how wrong it was to have Leia in the bikini for a good portion of the movie Luke Skywalker looked so good in, and until real life beckons he'll stay right here in the ideal life.

**Author's Note:**

> i cry and my tears spell out 'please go see midnight special for the ones that don't have it in their theaters yet'
> 
> also
> 
> http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/faithhill/breathe.html


End file.
